The first thing I noticed about the Eugene Record Convention Sunday was the smell. It had only been open for a couple of hours, but already the large convention hall had taken on the stench of an attic. The air was filled with the smell of old, well-worn, well-loved collectors’ items.
The convention is held annually at the Eugene Hilton the week after the Super Bowl and always seems to involve the same people; record collectors tend to look alike. It’s a look akin to that of antique dealers, film buffs, bibliophiles and adult toy store owners. It’s the look of those who spend their time dealing with the fetishes of other people while at the same time indulging in their own. They look middle-aged even in youth, usually wear glasses and have the odd sense of humor of someone who spends a lot of time alone.
Every year, people like this come together at conventions around the country for whatever their private obsession happens to be. Horror films, computer software, “Star Trek,” and what have you. It’s all the same: Fetish items for the obsessive.
This is not to put them down, of course, but only to explain the atmosphere of the place. Vinyl records are a collectors’ items for the most part, and while all the old arguments are brought forth about superior sound quality, they’ll certainly never again have the mass popularity currently afforded to compact discs. This is why these conventions exist, anyway. They provide a place for collectors and lovers of recorded music — what turn-of-the-century writer Ambrose Bierce snidely referred to as “the resurrection of dead noise.”
Most of the dealers are private, and many aren’t doing this for the profit. Often the reasons for showing up are to unload some of the junk in their collection and talk with other enthusiasts.
“I’m not here to make a whole bunch of money,” concert video dealer Mark Strand said. “I’m here to have some fun and talk to people about music.”
While there is money to be made in record dealing, the convention doesn’t seem to be about that aspect. There is chatter going on everywhere, with people discussing music, bragging over their latest finds, asking about obscure bootlegs, etc. And while many collectors’ items are for sale, this isn’t a place for people just out to find expensive first editions. The people here honestly seem to care about music.
“My first record was ‘Telstar’ by the Tornadoes and I haven’t been the same since,” dealer and KWVA DJ Marc Time said. “As a kid I would take money for my clarinet lessons and use it to buy singles, like ‘All Along the Watchtower’ by Jimi Hendrix.”
I guess that part of the reason I’m sympathetic toward these people is because I’m almost one of them. After blowing nearly $40 and filling a backpack with everything from Aretha Franklin to old 1960s garage rock compilations, I shouldn’t be one to judge the obsessive behavior of others.
And this is obsessive behavior, without a doubt. What other way is there to explain the kinds of things people search for at conventions such as this?
“My personal genre that I’m searching for is Christian ventriloquist records,” Time said. “Anything where people have a puppet and are singing evangelical songs, that’s what I’m looking for.”
Of course, there is no place like a record convention to find obscure music. The mere volume of items is rather astounding, even if most of it is stuff hardly anyone would want to buy. How much demand is there for old Styx and Journey albums anyway? But in general the mainstream is set aside and people aim to find that one thing that they have never been able to get on CD. Old Chet Atkins albums, the early works of Dick Dale or a vinyl copy of The Who’s “Tommy,” which no amount of digital remastering could improve upon.
Who knows what else? What people obsess over and why they obsess over it is always a murky area for discourse. Why do people get so worked up over the collection of wax discs? Why do they take such a defensive attitude should anyone question the validity of their obsession? These are not easy questions.
At least with music, the obsession is more than just the materialistic collection of stuff, unlike lunchbox or baseball card collecting. It is true that a good vinyl record sounds better than a CD, it is true that there is a lot of music you can only find on record and it is definitely true that records are cheaper. But it is still just an obsession, and, as I realized at this convention, has no deeper meaning other than itself.